Impact
by Scarlet Ibis
Summary: Takes place during "Smashed," right after Spike says, "Afraid to give me the chance?" and Buffy has him pinned against that column. you know the part. And no, this is not some smut recap. Not in the least.
1. Chapter 1

"You're afraid I'm gonna _hurt_ you."

Buffy's jaw clenched as she released Spike's lapels.

"Shut. _Up_."

"That's it, isn't it? Look pet, I'll be the first to admit that love is—"

"Spike," Buffy started, "just don't." She turned her back on him, but she just stood there, fists clenched like she wanted to hit something—probably him—but she stood still all the same.

"Love can be _pain_," he continued quietly, though his voice was strong and steady. "Speaking from first hand knowledge, not that you're a stranger to that. And that's the rub, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Buffy, stop living in denial, all right? Bloody Angel hurt you."

"Angel didn't…Angelus is _not_ him."

Spike strode over to her then, grabbed her arm and spun her around. Gripping her shoulders, he stared her down.

"I am not talking about sodding Angelus," he said sternly, voice low and almost menacing. "I'm talking about _Angel_. I'm talking about Captain Cardboard. They walked away all on their own didn't they?"

Buffy knocked his arms away, scowling.

"Yeah. Like Dru, huh?" she said lightly.

Spike scoffed. "Yeah, let's try and make this about me, even though I'm not the one with the hang ups," he said flippantly. He sighed, attempting to start over more calmly. "I know how I feel about you, and I'm not afraid of it. I'm not running away. I'm not traipsing off to parts unknown, no matter how hard you push, so just. Stop. Testing me. All right?" he finished, nostrils flared, breathing deeply from his impassioned statement.

"I can't…" She trailed off, looking away, teary eyed. "I can't love you, Spike."

"Is that right?" he asked, voice trembling. She turned her head sharply, looking at him, anger and hurt on her face.

"You _know_ I can't."

"Can't, or _don't_? Two different things, that. But let me guess, huh? It's against the rules, is it? I don't count? Don't have a shiny, good _soul_? Is that it?"

Buffy just stood there looking at him, her expression somber.

"Well guess what, pet? I don't give a piss about the rules, and neither should you. I've _changed_, Buffy. Why won't you see that?" he pleaded.

"Spike—"

"I've _changed_. And I love you. That's all there is to it."

"But I don't love you," she said quietly.

"You _can't_," he said bitterly.

She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself.

Spike sighed, turning on his heel.

"Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow," he said as we walked away, "but give it time, love." He paused, turning partially to face her.

"In the meantime, I'll give you some space, yeah? But no worries—I won't be far. Whenever you're ready to come out, well, you know where to find me."

Buffy looked startled at his statement, but before she could respond in any way, he turned and left; left her alone in the dark, abandoned house.

She looked around the dark, unstable structure for a moment, and then released a shaky sigh.

She walked out, leaving the abandoned building behind her.

* * *

  
A/N: This takes place before Buffy convinces herself that Spike can't love, or that it's only real to him, etc, which is why that argument doesn't play into this one shot.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Just a little extra...

* * *

Buffy took a deep breath as she stood in front of his crypt door.

Four days. It had been four days since she'd seen him last. He hadn't been at her house, the Magic Box, patrol…Just "poof"—no Spike. It disturbed her that she was more disturbed that she hadn't seen him in nearly a week as opposed to being disturbed by his chip not working on her. Shaking her head while mentally trying to shake off her concern about that, she opened his door.

She closed the door behind her with caution, spying him behind the counter in his fridge, rummaging through it.

"Hey. You haven't been around in awhile," she said nonchalantly, not moving from the door.

"Could say the same about you, pet. Sides, told you I'd give you—_us_ both some space, didn't I?"

"Didn't think you meant it."

"Well, I did," he responded casually. "Surprised?" he asked, back still to her as he closed the fridge door after finding what he wanted.

"Yeah. Not just…I missed you," she admittedly quietly, confusion crossing her face as she said the words.

"That shock you, did it?" he asked monotonously.

"I just said that it did," she said irritably. "I hear it takes twenty-nine days to form a habit. We've spent more time together than that."

"Ready to break the nasty habit then?" His tone was innocent, hiding his true emotions. What those were—anger, genuine curiosity, hurt—she wasn't sure. And it annoyed the hell out of her that she couldn't read him.

"I didn't say it was 'nasty.' Just a habit."

"Uh huh," he answered blithely, fixing himself a drink.

She stood there, watching as he purposely kept his back to her.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I have, pet. Had a nice dialogue going, didn't we?"

"I mean…say anything else? Look at me, at least?"

He sighed, taking his drink in hand as he walked to his comfy chair, sitting down with his eyes on her all the while.

"Well, clearly _you_ had something else to add. What do you have on your mind, slayer?"

She walked further into the room, hands at her sides, and then folded her arms as she stood in front of him.

"I do have something to add, I just…don't know what it is, exactly."

Spike sat back in his chair, rolling his eyes at what he was about to say, knowing just how poncy it was going to make him sound. He wasn't sure if he was more miffed at her or himself for this next bit.

_Eh, let's go with her for the hell of it._

"Well, don't know if it means much, but if it does, for the record, I missed you too."

"You did?" she asked, voice small.

He looked up at her, his gaze soft and his smile…sad. "Buffy, of course I did."

"Oh," she said with a smile, shoulders loosening as she sat on the crate across from him, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked at him, her expression slightly pensive.

"So…what now?"

"Don't rightly know. I suppose the first question now would be…what is it that you want?"

"Well, what do you want?" she countered.

He gave her a sideways glance at that, a smirk on his face. He brought the glass to his lips to cover it, taking a long drink. Once he collected himself, he looked at her, his expression humorless. "I want you, Buffy." Her back involuntarily stiffened at attention to the drop in octave of his voice. "Not just your friendship or a shoulder to cry on. Or a patrol partner or…a few stolen kisses. I want all of it." He paused, leaning forward in the chair, forearms braced on his knees as he looked down. "I want to take you out. Dance with you. Sit on your couch for an evening and watch the telly." He gave a self deprecating smile at that. "I want to sodding hold your hand. Happy now?"

He looked at her then, seeing her eyebrows raised practically to her hairline. She said nothing. Spike cleared his throat, suddenly more nervous than he recalled ever being.

"So uh…what is it that you want, then?"

"Me? Oh…" she trailed off, looking down at the ground. "To get rid of this…weight in the pit of my stomach, you know?" she asked, looking up at him. "Being back here—it's been rough. Understatement, okay. But it's easier to bear when I'm with you. And when you weren't around, it was harder. And lonely. And I think, maybe…"

Spike gripped his glass and clenched his jaw, willing himself not to say or do anything, waiting for her to finish. She looked up at him, eyes tender, yet curious.

"I think maybe we should try to be something…more. I mean, you don't have a soul to lose. So a plus—in a weird, bizarro kind of way."

"Yeah. And uh, I don't have an inferiority complex over you being stronger than me. In fact, I think it's right sexy."

"Huh?"

"Come on pet—Captain Cardboard?"

"Oh," she replied with an uneasy smile.

"So…how do we start, love?"

"Actually, I'm not so good with the…Tell you what—you lead, I'll follow. I'm progressive enough to allow someone else to take the reins. Not that I'm not capable of handling reins, with the steering and the…yeah."

Spike smiled, putting down his glass as he stood up. He reached for her hand.

"Well, in that case, I say I steer us to the Bronze then, eh? This calls for a celebration."

"Celebration?" she asked, taking his hand. He led her towards the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

"Absolutely. Drinks, dancing, spicy wings and blooming onions. Maybe some pool, if you're up for it."

"For…?"

"To commemorate our 'something more,' huh? With an actual date. Simple, sure, but I figure, baby steps is where it's at." He paused, releasing her hand briefly to put on his coat. He swallowed nervously, opening the door and holding it for her. "Is that all right?" he asked quietly.

Buffy smiled, hesitantly taking his hand again. She walked across the threshold, leading the way.

The crypt door closed gently behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: And the last bit...

* * *

First were the drinks and the spicy wings. Only one order of bloomin' onion though—Buffy didn't fancy onion rings very much, and attempted to exclude herself from eating the deep fried snack.

"Come on, love. Just a taste," Spike persisted, holding a "petal" up towards her mouth. His voice was low, and sensually coaxing.

"It's important to try new things, huh?" she asked rhetorically. She opened her mouth, allowing him to place it gently on her tongue. And to be completely honest, it had nothing to do with trying new things, and _everything_ to do with how he asked her.

After, there was pool. Much different than the last time they played, simply because it wasn't all business. It was fun. Flirty.

And then the band took the stage.

Spike put down his cue, and rounded the table, eyes trained on her all the while.

"Care for a dance?" he asked her, head tilted, and a slight smile on his face.

Buffy extended her hand to him.

"You know I wanna dance," she replied. He smirked, taking her hand, and lead her to the dance floor.

She blushed slightly as his hands, firm and gentle, found their place on her hips. She placed hers on his shoulders, slowly swaying to the slow melody with him.

Eyes hooded, Spike watched as a small smile formed on her lips, her hands gliding across his shoulders to the back of his neck. Her fingers gently caressed the short hairs at his nape, and he squeezed her a bit tighter.

He pulled her flush against him, gently kissing her temple. That was when she stopped swaying to the music, back ramrod straight.

Spike pulled back, and searched her face questioningly, concerned that maybe it was too fast for her. But her eyes—round and wide—were not on him. She was watching something behind him.

Buffy cowered, trying to hide behind his now still form. Spike craned his neck around. His jaw tightened slightly as he saw the Scoobies enter.

Quickly, he spun them around, so that they would both be clearly visible to the group of three.

"No hiding," he gritted out tightly, voice low. "We do this, we do it right." She looked down, brow furrowed. Spike raised his hand, gently cupping her cheek, so that she would look at him. "All right?" he asked her quietly.

She paused, breath caught in her throat, staring at him. His gaze was soft, but slightly pained, as if he were expecting her to say no.

Buffy exhaled slowly.

She brought up a hand, cupping one of his as well. She leaned upward, and gave him a kiss on his slightly parted mouth as a response.

It was that pain in his eyes that made her say yes.

Slowly, she deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth as Spike pulled her closer.

So loss in the passionate, yet tender kiss, she didn't hear her friends call her name. Didn't feel the impatient, yet worried tapping on her shoulder.

And when she finally did notice, she didn't care.

Her friends would just have to deal.

*~*~*~*

"Come on, Xander. Clearly, you're being ignored. _We're_ being ignored. They'll be done when they're done," Anya said in exasperation, tugging on her fiancé's arm.

"But—but—"

"Anya's right, Xander. Let's just go sit down. The song will be over soon," Willow said soothingly, taking his other arm. Both of his gals steered him through the throng of couples to an empty table.

"Well, I didn't see that coming," Xander said with an exhale as they sat down. "Any of you see that coming?"

Both Willow and Anya shook their heads "no."

The three looked down the middle of the crowd at the blond pair, who were now just holding each other, gazing at one another, still swaying as the song came to a close.

"I mean, there wasn't like a spell or something we should know about, Willow?"

"Xander—"

"Okay, sorry. Maybe demon goo of some kind?" he asked, looking at the two of them. He gave them a wry smile. "It was just a thought."

"They have been spending quite a bit of time together, right?" Anya asked. "Patrol, and Spike always going over—"

"Not in the last few days, but something's clearly changed," Willow added.

Xander watched as Spike twirled Buffy around slowly, so that her back was now to his front. He saw her laugh as Spike did so. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She placed her hand atop his as they rested on her belly.

"It's real," he said softly.

Willow looked at her best friend, worry etched on her face. "Are you going to be okay with this?"

Xander gave her a little smile at the question, though his gaze was still on the pair on the dance floor.

"I haven't seen Buffy laugh since she's been back. If Spike makes her happy like that," he paused, his gaze flickering between the worried face of Willow, and the inquisitive one of Anya.

"Then I'll deal."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay so I was wrong--here's a bit more.

* * *

All idle chatter ceased once the new couple began approaching the table. Xander's eyes briefly darted down, noticing the "hands of possessiveness." Spike had one on Buffy's hip, and Buffy's arm wrapped around him so that her hand could rest on Spike's side.

They were doing the whole couplely embrace thing while walking.

_Yep—it's a relationship all right_ Xander thought.

"So, who wants a drink?" Xander asked everyone once Buffy and Spike finally made it to their table. "You guys want drinks?" Xander asked the women on either side of them.

"I wouldn't mind a—"

"Spike, how's about we get the women folk drinks?" Xander interrupted Willow, quickly getting up from his seat and grabbing Spike by the arm, steering him towards the bar.

Willow, eyes on the guys all the while, asked, "Aren't you worried?"

"Nah," Buffy said, watching them as well as they moved through the crowd to the bar. "Spike's a big boy." She looked at Willow and Anya, and gave a slight shrug with a hint of a pout. "Okay—maybe just a little."

"Xander's just doing the whole big brother thing," Anya explained. "He wants to make sure that Spike is a proper suitor."

"I know," Buffy said with a small smile on her face.

Willow looked at her best friend, a hopeful look on her face. "You happy?"

Buffy looked back at her, a shy smile on her face. "Yeah. I am."

*~*~*~*

"So…"

Spike raised an eyebrow at that. "Yeah. So…?"

"You and Buff, huh?"

"Yeah," Spike said with a smile, looking away.

"How long this been going on?" Xander asked in an innocent enough tone, though his body language read "interrogation."

"Technically today. Officially today."

Xander frowned slightly, motioning with his hands. "And…unofficially?"

Spike smirked, leaning against the bar. "Not polite to kiss and tell."

"There's been _more_ kissing? Or more than what we had to suffer through and witness? No wait—I don't wanna know."

"Good. Cause I wasn't planning on sharing."

"So you're like, boyfriend and girlfriend now?" Xander asked, confusion written all over his face.

"Pfft, no," Spike said with a dismissive hand, turning towards the bar.

"Yuh huh," Xander said skeptically. "Then what do you call it?"

"Well, she's my lady now, isn't she? 'Girlfriend' is terribly juvenile."

"And you're her…fella?" Xander asked, clearly amused.

"I prefer gentleman caller," Spike said thoughtfully, not falling for the bait.

Xander patted Spike on the back, turning towards the bar as well. "Well, as long as you come 'callin'' correct, it's fine with me."

Spike scoffed. "Now_ there's_ a shocker."

Xander shrugged. "I don't see why—things are different. You're all reformed—"

"_Evolved_," Spike corrected.

"Whatever. Besides, you're a lot more…colorful than Angel ever was."

"Yeah, like that's a terribly hard feat," Spike scoffed.

Xander's expression turned serious. "That, and I don't see you as the running away type. Like Angel. And Riley. You're stubborn as hell."

Spike looked at Xander then, not sure where he was going with this.

"And someone as stubborn as Buffy? Especially now, not being able to admit if and when she needs help…She needs someone like you. You make her happy."

"Oh?" Spike asked, looking away, attempting to hide how Xander's honesty was confusing him, yet touching him all the same.

It was weird.

"Yeah, well," Xander added, feeling uncomfortable as well. "Let's get those drinks, huh?"

*~*~*~*

"Wow, I never would have guessed."

"Guessed what, love?" Spike asked her, as they walked towards Revello.

Buffy raised their clasped fingers. "That you're a total hand holder."

Spike smiled, bringing their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. "Lot of things you don't know about me." His smile turned into a decidedly naughty smirk.

Buffy blushed, smiling as well. "It's a good thing we've got the time to find out." She turned slightly, placing her free hand on his chest gently.

Spike laughed a little, releasing her hand so that he could wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, and swooping in to give a quick kiss to her temple as they continued to walk slowly, Buffy leaning against all the while.

"Yeah pet—we've got the time. Lots of exploring to do."


	5. Epilogue

"Okay, guys. I think I'm gonna call it a night," Willow announced as she got up from the Oriental rug on the living room floor, giving a bit of a stretch.

Buffy gave what she hoped was a convincing pout as she pressed the pause button on the remote.

"Oh, but we're like halfway through the movie. I mean, I'm sure they will, but who knows if they'll get back together?"

Willow, her face partly in shadow from the lights in the living room being off for movie night and the TV glowing behind her, gave a lopsided smile at that, looking fondly at the comfy-cozy couple on the couch. Spike had his arm wrapped securely around Buffy's shoulders, while she snuggled contently against his side, head on his shoulder, and hand resting on his chest.

"It's okay. Unlike you, I've seen 'Save the Last Dance' before. Right, Spike?" Willow asked with faux innocence.

"Hey, I was just…keeping the Bit company, is all," he replied, feigning indignance. Willow scoffed at that.

"Yeah, 'cause she was oh-so lonely that one time, even though me and Tara were right there on the couch with the two of you."

Spike rolled his eyes good naturedly at her and then began to rub idle circles on Buffy's shoulder to keep himself busy.

"Anyway, it was nice of you guys to invite me to your movie night. Really. What with Dawn and Tara doing the hanging out thing elsewhere, and Xander and Anya with their kink fest planned for tonight. Which really, I _so_ didn't need to know, but Anya wanted to be sure that I stayed away."

"I think she wanted to be sure we _all_ stayed away," Buffy added with a grin.

"But yeah—you guys are new to coupledom. Not even your first week. I don't wanna infringe upon you guys' quality time any more than I already have, being all third wheelie, so…Night!" she finished cheerily with a little wave, turning to leave before Buffy or Spike could say anything else.

Not that either was planning on stopping her.

"I'll be in my room all night with the door closed!" she called out from the top of the stairs. "Unless I have to use the ladies' very badly, but I probably won't, so, yeah!"

Buffy tilted her head up to look at Spike as the sound of Willow's door shutting filtered down the stairs.

"Looks like it's just me and you, guy."

Spike, eyes soft, stared intently at her.

"Yeah, looks like," he said softly. Spike then looked back at the frozen scene on the television, waiting for Buffy to un-pause it. Buffy frowned, but pushed play, wondering what his deal was.

It'd been three days—_three days_—since they came out with their "something more/we're dating, so deal with it" thing, and smoochies had been at a bare minimum, let alone something else. Either Spike had incredible restraint, or he just wasn't all that interested.

_Please, let it be restraint…_

"Spike?" Buffy called out softly, mimicking his pattern drawing on her shoulder by doing some of her own on his chest.

"Yeah, pet?" Spike answered, eyes intently on the television and _not_ at her fingers that seemed to be drifting ever so slowly towards his right nipple.

_Bloody hell_, he thought, shifting slightly as her fingers made contact with it against his silent wishes, drawing circles around it.

"So, like, how come…"

He looked at her as she trailed off.

"What?" he prodded.

"So, is there a particular reason why you haven't…"

"Haven't what, love?"

"Well, it's just…you're so…" She looked up at him. His eyes were peering at her, inquisitive. "You never…touch me. We hardly…"

She trailed off again, but this time it was from the blatant hunger that instantly appeared on his face. Her heart involuntarily quickened.

"Well, I just thought it best if you set the pace is all," he drawled. "Didn't want to push you."

"Maybe I wanna be pushed," she said throatily.

Spiked cocked his head at her, smirking a bit. "Maybe you should take the reins, then. This is your show, love."

"Is it?"

Spike smirked at her. "You're the bloody lead, Summers."

"The lead, huh?" she said more to herself than to him.

Tossing her reservations aside, she moved, straddling his hips, hands on his shoulders as she leaned forward to capture his lips. Spike moaned as her tongue met his, her fingers moving to entangle themselves in his blond locks. He scooted down on the couch a bit, pulling her hips down so that she sat on him, letting her know just how she was affecting him. He wanted her to know _exactly_ what it was she was steering. She moaned at the feel of him, undulating her hips slowly for more friction.

It wasn't enough.

She pulled back, and he thrust upward, making her gasp. She reached down, going for his belt buckle.

"More. Spike—I need…"

Instantly, it was as if his hands were everywhere. One was unhooking her bra, moving around to the front to fondle her right breast, while the other unbuttoned her jeans. Spike groaned, stilling his movements once she made solid contact with his length.

"Bloody…" he mumbled, picking her up slightly and laying her flat on the couch. He maneuvered himself between her legs and then hovered over her. His eyes fluttered closed as she slowly stroked him. When he opened them again, his mouth was slightly parted open as he quickly yanked her shirt over her head, pulling her unfastened bra up and off her arms at the same time. He paused, staring at her. This time, it was Buffy who stilled her movements. He pulled back away from Buffy, gently grasping her wrist to move her hand away from him.

"Spike?"

Spike shook his head slightly, giving her a little smile.

"Oh, Buff…" he trailed off, hands ghosting over her breasts before he leaned down, mouth hovering over the left before licking the nipple, sucking it into his mouth as his left hand massaged her right one. She moaned, arching into him.

While he teased her breast with teeth and tongue, his hand that had been fondling the neglected one slowly traveled down her smooth torso to the waistband of her jeans, unzipping without a pause, then sliding back up slightly, only to slide his hand downward again, but this time to go underneath the band of her panties, thumb first, through the curls there, massaging her clit gently. He looked up at her gasps and ever growing pants. He released the teased nipple, sitting up again, removing his hands and ignoring her groan of protest, and took advantage of the bucking of her hips to yank off her pants. He gave her a devilish smirk as he tossed the denim over the coffee table to the floor, and then hooked his index fingers onto each side of her black cotton panties. He dragged the material down her legs, eyes on her all the while. Chest heaving, she watched as he did so. As soon as her underwear cleared her feet, she sat up quickly on her knees, body flush against his, and reached for the hem of his t-shirt. Spike quickly put the panties in his back pocket before she made him raise his arms in the air to take off his shirt.

"Lose. Pants," she panted in his ear before kissing his neck, worrying the skin there with nips and licks. Spike grit his teeth, palming her bare bottom with both hands, giving her cheeks a simultaneous squeeze. He released her then, standing up to pull off his boots. After he tossed the second boot to the side, he stopped, looking at her with uncertainty.

"Um, just how far we going with this, love?" he asked, feeling awkward as hell with his cock jutting out from his pants. Buffy swallowed, leaning forward slightly, reaching out for him, and took a pleasantly firm grip.

"I…thought you said this is my show."

Spike swallowed then as well, but refused to look down.

"Yeah, kitten, it is."

"Then lose the pants. It's hardly fair that I'm all, you know," she paused, blushing. "'Starkers' and you're not."

"Right," Spike said, voice low. Buffy released him once again so that he could do what she asked. He bent down as he pushed his black denim to his ankles, pulled one foot out and then kicked the jeans off with the other.

Buffy leaned back on the couch and beckoned him over. When he tried to kneel between her legs, she pulled him up by his hair so that he hovered over her instead.

"Come on, Summers—let me play…"

"Later. I want you Spike. Hmm…" He could see the struggle on her face to find the words. "Touch me."

He nodded, reaching down.

"No—I mean…why use your hand when you have a better tool?" she said lightly.

He chuckled. "I do at that." Eyes trained on her, he positioned himself at her entrance, and…

Paused again.

"You sure bout this?"

She put both her hands on the sides of his face and pulled his head down for a tender kiss as her answer, thrusting her hips upward as she did so.

Spike slowly pushed forward at that. He pulled back from the kiss with a gasp at the feel of her. He wanted—_needed_—to see her face.

"Buffy," he called out softly to her. She nodded at him, watching him watch her as they slowly undulated together.

Though that only lasted so long. After a moment, he had to kiss her again, so he did. Their dance above as well as below instantly became synchronized—languorous and passionate.

Buffy broke away from the kiss once Spike began to pick up the pace, gasping into the crook of his neck as she wrapped her legs around him, ankles crossed at his lower back, while her name was an echo from his lips. Her hands, of their own volition, began to claw at his back, wanting more.

She called out his name brokenly as she flipped them over and off the couch. Spike gave an "oomph" as his back crashed against the rug covered floor in tandem with him being thrust even deeper into Buffy, who gasped, crying out incoherently as she began to ride him. Spike growled, gripping her hips, his hands urging her faster, and then she was constricting around him, so powerfully that he came undone right along with her.

Buffy collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily as he held her close, stroking her long hair gently. She turned her head and kissed his neck, hands resting on his shoulders as she gave a contented sigh.

And then she frowned.

"Oh, no…"

"What is it, love?" Spike asked, concern laced in his voice. He held her then, closely, afraid she would move, afraid she would leave, that she now had regrets.

"It's just…" She sighed, taking a deep breath. "Do you think Will heard any of that?"

Spike chuckled in relief, squeezing her a bit in his embrace before loosening his hold. He didn't have to worry about her wanting to run now.

"Well, it's a bit late to worry bout that, isn't it?"

Buffy pouted, groaning a bit in embarrassment.

"I guess." She sat up a bit so that she could look at him. "How's about we move this to my room?"

*~*~*~*

Buffy quickly put on Spike's shirt as he put on his pants. Her brow furrowed as she picked up the rest of her clothes.

"Uh, okay. Where are my panties?"

"Oh, you don't see them?" he asked lightly while zipping up.

"No…" Buffy began pulling up the couch cushions before looking underneath it.

"I'm sure they'll turn up, love."

"That's the problem—I'd rather they didn't. Unless it's by me. Or you, I guess."

Spike smiled, walking over to her, taking her arm.

"Come on—let's turn in," he said, before gently kissing her. Buffy nodded and lead him quietly up the stairs.

*~*~*~*

After round two in Buffy's bed, in which Spike got to "play" as requested, they lay side by side, facing one another, Spike with his hand on her hip, and Buffy with her leg draped over his, just looking at one another, enjoying the moment.

"So, tell me something," she murmured.

"Anything in particular?" he asked, thumb caressing the skin of her hip.

She shrugged slightly, stifling a yawn. "Anything of anything. I don't mind."

Spike moved his hand from her hip, bringing it up to tuck her hair behind her ear, before resting on the column of her neck. He leaned forward, kissed her chastely, and then pulled back.

"The one light that doesn't burn, are the rays from her shining sun."Buffy's eyes widened at that, but she said nothing.

"Giving warmth on days so cold, when she allows my arms to hold. Wraps me so tight, I come undone, for her love and strength I dare behold."

He smiled slightly before looking down, embarrassed. When he looked back up at her, her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears.

"Buffy?"

"That was…who wrote that?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah, um…I did. For you. I'm sorry if—if it wasn't—"

"It was beautiful. Just…thank you."

She hugged him, kissed his neck, and felt a few tears free themselves. The emotions growing inside of her almost felt as if were all too much; she never knew that words could have such a profound effect on her. But they did—_he_ did. After all, it was words that set them on this course in the first place, less than two weeks ago.

But Spike was a talker, wasn't he? And also, as she just learned, a poet. A passionate one at that.

She was ever so glad that she hadn't made him be quiet in that dilapidated building, that she'd listened to him say his piece as opposed to shutting him up like she initially intended. His impassioned speech had lead to them being here. Now.

Happy.

Though she had to admit that she never would have guessed that words would be her undoing, she was learning: words could make more of an impact than a fist when it came to matters of the heart. And being with Spike now, like this, maybe she too could one day touch him with words from her heart.


End file.
